


when i was younger i was named (a generation unafraid)

by loodins



Series: season 8 tags and fix-its [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag: s08e03 The Long Night, F/M, Season/Series 08 Spoilers, i just wanted something like this really bad, so I wrote it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 02:44:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18651301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loodins/pseuds/loodins
Summary: post s8.03, spoilers ahead!They go down in waves.One after another after another and so on, until he is left staring at tens, hundreds, thousands of lifeless bodies. He still doesn’t dare move. It has to be a trick—he’s sure of it.And then it’s real.And then his heart is in his chest.And then he starts screaming, just like the rest of them.





	when i was younger i was named (a generation unafraid)

**Author's Note:**

> My mom left for the gym as I started writing this and I was done before she even got back. 
> 
> Zero editing went in to this. What you read is what poured out of me all at once. I apologize for the mess that it is. 
> 
> This is also my first GoT fic, I never even considered writing any, but GENDRYA IS CANON AND THEY GAVE ME THE PERFECT OPPORTUNITY TO WRITE THIS FIC. I wasn't even going to at first, but then it wouldn't leave my head and... now we're here. 
> 
> Title from Battlefield by SVRCINA.

They go down in waves.

One after another after another and so on, until Gendry is left staring at tens, hundreds, thousands of lifeless bodies. He still doesn’t dare move. It has to be a trick—he’s sure of it.

It’s several minutes before a door opens and he sees the Hound and the Red Witch exit a door. Only once the witch has made it across the courtyard, out of the castle, and half way across the field does he realize none but the living have moved.

And then it’s real.

And then his heart is in his chest.

And then he starts screaming, just like the rest of them.

Different names are being yelled, all over the castle. He can hear people screaming from the tops of the towers for Baeon, from the outer walls of the castle for Red Mouse, from the courtyard for Syrah. He might feel bad about this later, but he couldn’t give two shits as to whether any of those people are alive, all he cares about is finding Arya.

Finding Arya _alive_.

So he leaves Tormund’s side, staggering down the pile of dead bodies as he screams, yells, cries her name. He looks towards every person who is standing because he doesn’t know where else to start, and people who are clearly alive is probably his best bet. Maybe. He doesn’t want to think about how his search might be over if he starts looking at the dead.

He sees the Hound again, who locks eyes with Gendry. He looks wary for a moment, and then joins in calling out Arya’s name. It’s the first time Gendry has heard the man call her by her name rather than some variation of _bitch_ or _she-wolf_ and he can’t even appreciate that fact because they could very well be yelling to the heavens. But no—he can’t think that. He can’t think about that, not now (not ever), not when he’s just survived this. Not when he’d just only gotten her back. Not now (not ever).

He barely knows where he’s going. Never mind the fact that he’s still new to Winterfell, he simply cannot tell which way is which through the haze, through the bodies, through his panic. And he is—panicking, that is. He can’t get in enough air because he’s been calling her name for what feels like days and he still has no answer, still has no indication that she was one of the lucky ones.

He’s beginning to wish he had perished in the battle because he can’t—he _can’t_ go on if he’s lost her again. Not after last night, not after all the time apart when he thought he’d lost her. Thinking he’d lost her is easier than having cold, hard proof of the loss. And he—he can’t—

But he doesn’t have to.

He’s not sure how he got here, but he sees Jon kneeling next to a figure, enveloping it in his arms. The figure is holding Jon just as tightly and Gendry _knows_ , even without seeing her face, even without seeing any defining characteristics. He feels it in his chest and he damn near collapses to the ground with relief.

He’s not sure how he does it, but his eyes manage to leave her and find Bran’s stare. The boy doesn’t smile, he doesn’t nod, he doesn’t do anything but blink and look back to his brother and sister. He does say something that Gendry can’t hear, which makes Arya’s form tense up, and Jon pull away, confused.

The relief he had felt seeing her form is laughable compared to the joy and utter contentment he feels when Arya turns to face him. With one look from her—with the confirmation that she’s alive, his legs collapse beneath him. He’s sitting surrounded by shards of ice, dead bodies, and bloodied weapons but still thinks this might be the happiest he’s ever been. Her already tear-stained face twists in to an odd expression that Gendry doesn’t have time to decipher before she’s up on her feet and charging at him.

He has barely a moment to brace himself before she collides with him. He catches her in his arms and hugs her tight to his chest, crying into her hair while she sobs in to his neck. “I thought I lost you,” he says. It’s no louder than a whisper, but in the silent Godswood it sounds like a battle cry.

Arya sobs again, or maybe she laughs. When she pulls back from him she’s smiling, and shaking her head. “Not today.”

“Not today,” he repeats. “Not ever.”

“Not ever,” she echoes, and then they’re kissing. It’s not hard or fast like he wishes, but it’s not soft and slow, either. They’re too exhausted both in mind and body to put much more in to it that the motions, but it’s—it’s a reassurance. A call back to mere hours ago when he was leaving her so he could go man his station and she hers. When their kiss wasn’t filled with passion but with pleas for safety and declarations of love.

When they pull apart, Arya is crying again, but there is a smile on her face. Gendry brings a hand up to caress her cheek and taps his thumb to the up turn of her lips. He could tell her he loves her, he could tell her that she is the reason he kept fighting even when he thought his life was over, he could tell her so many things. He doesn’t need to.

“Oh, fuckin’ hells. I’ve got to live through this shit now?”

Gendry twists around and sees the Hound standing at the entry way to the Godswood.

“So you lived,” Arya says, wiping her tears from her eyes. “I’m glad.”

The Hound quirks the corner of his lip up. “So you closed some blue eyes. Or what ever that witch was going on about.”

“A few,” Arya admits.

Before Gendry can even begin to imagine Arya up against the Army of the Dead, Bran’s voice carries across the field as he tells them, “all of them.”

And, really, Gendry forgot that Jon was also in the Godswood (he can’t be blamed), but Jon looks between Arya and Bran and asks, “what?”

Gendry doesn’t need the clarification, for once. Once he’s taken his eyes off of Arya he’s able to look around and see his surroundings. Most importantly, he’s able to see the dagger laying in the middle of the shards of ice next to Bran’s chair.

He knows that dagger.

_“You already have a sword. … what’s that?”_

_She takes the weapon from its hilt and hands it to him._

_He stares down at it, shocked. “It’s Valyrian steel. I always knew you were just another rich girl,” he teases._

_Arya takes the dagger back and sheathes it. She smirks at him and teases back, “you don’t know any other rich girls.”_

Gendry suddenly feels cold.

It isn’t a cold that he’s felt in the past several weeks in Winterfell. It isn’t a cold that the Night King and his army brought. It is a bone chilling, heart stopping cold.

 _Arya_ defeated the Night King.

 _Arya_ defeated the Army of the Dead.

 _Arya_ saved… everyone.

“You killed him,” Gendry says. He can’t think of anything beyond that right now.

“I did,” Arya says.

Jon, who had stood back up at some point leans his weight in to Bran’s chair and breathes out hard. A cloud of breath comes, followed by a shocked whine. “How?”

Arya looks at her older brother. “I snuck up on him,” she smirks. Gendry is missing something, he’s sure of it, but he doesn’t think that it’s his to know.

“How’d you do that?” Jon asks. “There must’ve been at least ten White Walkers guarding that entrance.”

Arya grins, but it doesn’t look like he thinks it should—not with the blood and tears and dirt hiding it away. She finally gets to her feet and brushes the dirt off her knees. It doesn’t do much. “Secret.”

“You shouldn’t have risked that, Arya—“

“She was the only one who could have,” Bran cuts Jon off, while Gendry takes the opportunity to stand up himself. Bran’s voice is much the same as it always is, but as Gendry comes up beside Arya, he thinks he might hear a lick of pride in the words the boy says. “She has always been destined to this moment. It is why she trained with Syrio Forel, why Gendry was taken from her, and why she became no one.”

“Why— _who_ is Syrio? And Gendry was _what_ from her? How did she _become_ no one?”

Arya sighs. “There’s a lot you don’t know from when I was away.”

“But—Gendry?”

“I’ll leave the telling up to milady,” he says.

Arya huffs. She turns and shoves her hands in to Gendry. “Do _not_ call me that!”

“As milady commands,” he fires back.

Jon flicks his eyes between the two of them. He then turns to Bran, and then the Hound. The Hound scoffs. “Don’t fuckin’ look at me. I haven’t anything to do with those two little shits being separated.”

“I want to know what happened,” Jon demands.

Arya moves closer to Gendry. “How about after we get some sleep?” She looks down at herself. “And cleaned up. This is disgusting. And I’ve slept in shit piles before.”

“Very well,” Jon says. “We’ll sleep and while we work on cleaning up tomorrow you can tell me about this… time away.”

“Great,” Arya nods. Gendry can both hear and see the physical and mental exhaustion from her. She had been on a battle high, but after so long with no action, she (and the rest of them) is beginning to crash. “This one,” she says, grabbing Gendry’s elbow and guiding him towards the exit of the Godswood, “is coming with me.”

“No, Arya—!” Jon starts to protest, but she cuts him off immediately.

“Yes, Jon!” she calls over her shoulder. Gendry throws an apologetic look over his. “I just killed the Night King! Think of what I can do to anyone who gets in my way!”

“ _Arya!_ ”

“Glad you made it out alive, you’re welcome for saving your life!”

“I—“

“Oh, just let them go,” the Hound says as they pass by him. “They used to sleep on the same bedroll every night.”

“ _Gendry!_ ” Jon yells, but it doesn’t sound as powerful. Probably because Arya is dragging him now, further and further away. At any other time, Gendry likely would have cared about Arya’s brother yelling after him in a threatening tone because Gendry was about to share a bed with Arya.

The thing is—they just faced death. Nothing, not even an angry Jon Snow trying to protect his youngest sister, is scarier than that.

Maybe that’s why when they’re inside the walls of the castle, he thinks.

And when they’re in the hallway leading to Arya’s room, he decides.

And when they’re in Arya’s room, he asks.

“Marry me.”

Alright, so it’s more of a demand than a question, but even so, Arya smiles. “You know, my sister always told me if I should be so lucky to find a man who proposed marriage to me instead of being thrown in to an arrangement, it should be romantic.”

Gendry laughs. “Covered in pieces of dead men, dirt, and blood isn’t romance enough for you?”

“Oh, no, I was just pointing out that you were very successful in making it romantic, couldn’t you tell?”

He smiles down at her. “I love you. And as people are all going to be asking how you did it instead of thanking you… _thank you_. Thank you for saving us.”

Arya reaches her arms up and curls her hands around the back of his neck. She draws him in to a kiss and there’s not much more to be said.

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, now that the mess is over, I hope y'all enjoyed it! 
> 
> If you wanna yell with me about our Queen Arya Stark or our King Gendry Baratheon feel free to do so in the comments.


End file.
